


One More

by chwangdol



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Autofellatio, Cock Worship, Cuck Otabek, Face-Fucking, Facials, Hair-pulling, Hockey Team of OMC, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Polyamory, Threesome - M/M/M, Unsafe Sex, Yuri Gets Banged by 19 Dudes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-20
Updated: 2017-07-06
Packaged: 2018-11-03 00:04:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10955532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chwangdol/pseuds/chwangdol
Summary: The fic where Mila and Yuri compete to see who can fuck an entire hockey team first. Alternatively, the fic where Otabek gets cucked by 19 dudes.





	1. Threesome; Cock Worship

**Author's Note:**

  * For [voslen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/voslen/gifts).



> so this started as an anon to [voslenonice](http://voslenonice.tumblr.com/) on tumblr (that i sent) and then i was like "hey, i should write this." and then a few other people were like, "hey, you should write that."
> 
> also i just changed one letter in the name of the hockey team they would actually be sharing the rink with but ofc i'm not putting any hockey players in this bc i dunno shit about hockey so here's your disclaimer that if any of these characters resemble real life people it's coincidental

Times like these Yuri really wishes he could truthfully say that Otabek was his only friend. Otabek would never bug him over something so stupid.

“I’m being honest, Yuri!” Mila practically shouts, the sparkling water she downed earlier had around four shots of vodka in it, and now she’s nursing a crappy homemade white Russian. She always gets loud when she’s drunk, “Andrey and Ilya were _totally_ checking out your ass at the rink today.”

“And if they were?” Yuri finds himself asking. He honestly has no idea why he agreed to hang out with Mila at her apartment tonight. He’s still on his first crappily mixed drink, and it’s not as strong as Mila’s. He doesn’t really want to be drunk texting tonight.

“If they were, then why aren’t you getting on that?” she asks, almost breaking Yuri’s eardrums with her volume.

Yuri rolls his eyes, “Getting on which?” he frowns, realising that makes it seem like he’s considering the idea, “And a ton of people probably stare at my ass. But I have standards. And a fucking skating career to pay attention to.”

Mila shrugs, finishing off her bitter drink with a wince, “I should’ve put more creamer in this,” she comments off-handedly, then gets back to the much more pressing issue, “I mean there really isn’t a single dude in SKP that’s not good looking. And hockey players have good stamina,” she winks at him.

Yuri tosses a pillow at her face.

“Didn’t you date one of them already? And break up? And then he got with Georgi’s ex? You’re telling me to get with one of those messes?”

“Fedor left the team like three years ago,” she informs him, “Don’t know why, but I don’t think anyone misses him. He _was_ a mess.”

She opens another can of sparkling water and pours it into a tumbler with a few shots of vodka, lazily mixing it with a straw.

“I haven’t slept with a single hockey player for three years,” she continues, laying her head back on the back of the couch, mouth hanging agape, “Can you believe that?”

Yuri shrugs, “I could believe you haven’t slept with _anyone_ in three years.”

It’s his turn to get a pillow thrown at him now.

“Well if Andrey and Ilya think you’re hot, I should have no problem getting in their pants.”

“Wow,” Yuri deadpans, takes a small sip of his drink, “Thanks.”

“Oh come on, Yuri!” she practically shrieks, “You know what I meant, ya little brat!”

Yuri frowns, “You’re trying to say you’re better looking than me.”

Mila rolls her eyes, “You might be too young to see, but it’s not all about looks, Yura.”

“You’re only two years older than me, Baba,” he argues.

“Then stop with that nickname,” she grumbles, then scoots herself over closer to Yuri, “I mean it’s about experience and all that too. You can just _tell_ when someone knows how to handle themselves in the bedroom, you know?”

Yuri shoves her away, not feeling bad when she spills a little on her shorts, “You’re not some sex guru, Mila, no matter how highly you think of yourself.”

“Well I mean I could tell when you had your first time couldn’t I?”

“You literally picked me up from his apartment right after. It was kind of hard to hide.”

Mila pouts, then looks deep in thought. He gets up to put somr of their dirtied glasses in the sink and get a paper towel for Mila. One of the half-stray cats he forced Mila to let into her apartment mewls loudly when he sees him in the kitchen, but he ignores the beggar. Mila was obviously feeding him every time he made a noise, and it was showing in his mid section.

Mila is tapping her chin when he returns to the couch, tapping her jaw in that obnoxious way that her and Viktor do when they want everyone to know they’re thinking (for once).

“You need to stop feeding Piggy,” he tells her, referring to the half-stray cat. They named it after Katsuki because of it’s black fur and previously skittish attitude.

“He has to gain weight to fit his name,” Mila argues, grabbing the paper towel from Yuri to dab at the still wet parts of the spill.

Yuri relaxes back into the couch. They have music playing on her sound system and some nature documentary muted on the TV. He watches the sharks on the screen for a bit, feeling his body relax and the alcohol start to make him sleepy.

Mila clapping her hands together brings him out of his peaceful state.

“There are like what? 19, 20 dudes in SKP. And I haven’t slept with a single one of them? Have I really become an old hag, Yuri? Am I losing my touch?” she laces her tone in fake sadness, and Yuri sinks further into the couch, his legs are almost coming out the other side of the coffee table now.

“You’ve never had ‘a touch’, Baba,” he reminds her, and she mock faints into his lap with a groan.

“You’re probably getting more dick than me recently, huh?” Yuri scrunches up his nose at her, but she continues in a quieter voice, “My baby brother. Getting it more than I am. What kind of mad world are we living in?”

Yuri doesn’t bother pushing her off. If there’s one thing he’s learned about Mila after being her friend and rinkmate it’s that she gives as good as she gets, so if she ends up on the floor, he won’t be far behind.

“How many of them have you slept with?” she asks, frowning as she tries to find a way to get her straw to her mouth without spilling all over her chest.

Yuri’s eyebrows furrow together, “What?”

“How many of the hockey dudes have you slept with?”

Yuri blinks down at her, lost for words, “None?” he says, as if he’s questioning it himself.

“You don’t seem so sure,” Mila pouts, “I want to know I’m not losing.”

Yuri gapes at her, “Losing what?” he barks out, jerking a bit and making Mila spill a little on the fluffy rug underneath them.

“The race to fuck an entire hockey team,” she retorts back. As if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Yuri grabs his drink back off the coffee table and takes a big gulp. He eyes the vodka when all he tastes is the soda water. He should probably be a little more drunk for this.

“I didn’t realize that existed,” Yuri tells her, trying to ignore how she’s biting his shirt where it’s hanging over her face as he pours himself another drink.

“Well it should be. See who can sleep with all 19… or 20, or whatever first. But they can’t be in on it, of course.”

Perhaps it’s the small amount he’s drank, or maybe it’s his competitive nature, but he really can’t seem to think of a reason this isn’t anything but a good idea.

“How do we prove it?” he finds himself asking, and Mila is grinning ear-to-ear.

“So you’re in?”

Yuri shrugs and takes another gulp, “Yeah, sure. I’ll fucking crush you.”

Mila laughs, “We’ll see,” her finger is back on her chin again, “Maybe a selfie in their bed? Or I guess if it doesn’t happen in a bed then maybe like a picture of them leaving wherever you fucked?”

Yuri scoffs, “Shouldn’t your sex guru powers let you know who’s slept with who?” he teases, but Mila seems to find it funny.

“Wow, I wish,” she sighs, “That would make this whole thing way easier,” her finger tap taps on her chin, and Yuri wants to rip it off, “I’m guessing it would be too hard to convince you and the other guys to film it.

Yuri groans. They need heavier alcohol for this.

\--

Yuri wakes up on the floor, head on a couch cushion. In front of him are two laptops, an ipad, and a giant ass white board. It takes him a moment to remember he’s at Mila’s place, and then a few more moments to remember their discussion last night. He can now recognize the scribbling on the whiteboard as the names of the members of SKP.

His jumbled thoughts let him drown in regret for a moment before they yell at him to get some damn water.

On his way back from the kitchen he discovers that standing is not fun at the moment, so he sits himself back down on the fallen couch cushion.

Mila’s asleep on the couch, curled up on the cushion still there. He sips his water and tries to remember why the fuck Mila has a giant ass whiteboard in her apartment.

Oh yeah. It was so that one hot tutor wouldn’t have a excuse to teach her at the library instead of her apartment. It’s fitting that it’s initial purpose was to get in a dude’s pants, as it is now being used in the planning of getting into 20 dude’s pants.

Or maybe 19. One name is crossed out. He’s annoyed that that’s what’s bugging him the most at the moment. How low has he stooped if he feels no shame in agreeing in a race to fuck a group of dudes?

He kicks Mila awake, ignoring her grumbling protests.

“Oi,” he barks, “Why’s Andrei crossed out?”

“Which one?” she grumbles from her face in a pillow.

“Andrei K.”

She lifts her head from the pillow to blink at the whiteboard then lets it fall back onto the couch, “He’s got a girlfriend,” she mumbles.

Yuri’s nose scrunches up, “So that’s going to stop us?” he asks, and Mila groans in response.

“God, I forgot how much of an asshole you are.”

“I was only kidding,” Yuri defends himself. He wasn’t.

They spend a while lying in their respective positions until Mila rolls herself off the couch and gets up through an awkward stretch.

“So you’re still in on this sober?”

Yuri shrugs, “Why not?”

\--

A good reason against it would have been that it’s a lot fucking harder than Yuri thought it’d be.

At first he thought he’d have an advantage since he shared a locker room with the guys, but he’s spent years distancing himself from all the other athletes, especially the hockey players who never seemed to _stop_ sweating.

There’s also the fact that outside of a club or bar, he has no fucking clue how to approach people. He’s not Otabek; he can’t just whisk them away on a motorcycle and tell them they have pretty eyes.

So he goes for a slow approach. Or at least that’s what he thinks he’s doing. He spends extra time after his practices in the locker room, doing half-assed stretches that he hopes emphasize his ass.

One of them says bye to him after a few days. Yuri doesn’t look up in time to see who it was because they always seem to travel in giant herds. As if they already didn’t take up enough space on their own.

“It’s harder than I thought it’d be,” he confides to Otabek in one of their near daily skype chats. Otabek has his phone propped up on something in his small kitchen as he makes himself some lunch.

“You didn’t think sleeping with 20 guys would be hard?” Otabek asks, Yuri can barely see the eyebrow raise, but he’s spent enough time with Otabek that he knows it’s there.

“19,” Yuri corrects, “One of the Andrei's has a girlfriend. But it’s not the sex part that’s hard! If I could just get to that it’d be a piece of cake. It’s trying to fucking approach the dumbasses. I’ve never had to ask anyone out!”

Otabek gives him a cheeky smile, “Compliment their eyes.”

Yuri hangs up.

\--

Andon and Felix approach him right when they walk in the locker room. Yuri hasn’t even taken off his skates or checked his phone.

He looks up at them, because even if he’s a pretty average height of 175 cm or so, every single dude on the hockey team fucking dwarfs him. Of course that didn’t influence his decision at all when it came to the bet. Not at all.

“Yuri!” Felix greets him. His dirty blond hair is already drenched in sweat, probably from a pre practice workout or some shit. It’s pushed back with a worn headband, curling around where it falls at mid-neck. There had been a time where Yuri tried to style his hair like that, attempting to pull off the rugged manliness look when the fairy nickname started to get to him.

He didn’t have the heart to cut his hair, so instead he just grew out a little stubble and attempted the whole lumbersexual aesthetic. It didn’t fit him, and JJ made a big deal about it with a ton of jokes asking if he wanted Canadian citizenship.

Felix pulls it off well, probably because he doesn’t spend hours in the mirror trying to perfect the “messiness,” like Yuri had. He’s also always been nice to the figure skaters they shared the rink with, unlike some of his teammates. Even let Georgi cry on his shoulder during one of the dude’s many dramatic breakups.

Yuri responds with a simple, “Hey,” as he takes his normal seat on the bench.

They stay quiet for a bit, and Andon looks to Felix as if he’s waiting for him to say something. Andon has a much cleaner vibe than Felix. His brown hair is always trimmed into a perfect fade. It’s so neat, Yuri would guess he’d have to use clippers every morning.

Whereas Felix gives off the vibe of textbook extrovert, Andon is much more reserved. His stoic expression reminds Yuri of Otabek, but instead of looking angry he just looks tired.

“Andon and I were wondering if you’d want to go out and get drinks tonight,” Felix tells him with a smile, slouching against the lockers as if he’s trying to make himself a little less imposing.

“There’s a bar near my apartment I like,” Andon adds, and Yuri resists the urge to smirk. Now he’s getting somewhere. Hopefully that somewhere ends up being Andon’s bed.

Instead, he pretends to think as he unlaces his skates, “Sounds good to me,” Yuri tells them with a nod. He looks up at Andon through his lashes. The dude looks away when their eyes meet, but Yuri catches a small victorious smile.

Felix is standing up straight again, giving his hands a little clap of excitement, “Great! Eight work for you, Yuri?”

Yuri nods, and Felix’s smile beams like sun against snow heaps, “Awesome! Give me your number so I can text you the address!”

Yuri leaves after entering in his info to Felix’s phone, not missing the way the dude adds a cat emoji when he gets his phone back. When he gets home, he showers then naps, waking up a few hours before his “date.”

An unknown number has sent him an address and a lot of smileys; Yuri saves it as Felix and checks his other messages.

Yuuri’s sent him a picture of a fat calico cat lounging in front of Yutopia, and Otabek has sent him a simple, “ _How’s it going?_ ”

Yuri shoots back a quick reply of _“might fuck two of them tonight lol,”_ before going to decide what to wear. It’s not exceptionally warm so he rules out short-shorts or pairing a tank with leggings. Instead he settles for his pair of black-on-black leopard print leggings and a flowy sheer black tunic.

As he matured, Yuri’s fashion sense became a lot more tasteful and subtle, but looking at the mirror he thinks this is a little _too_ subtle. He groans and rummages through his closet a little longer, pulling out shit he didn’t even know he still had and making a mess so large it’s spilling out into the bedroom.

Finally, he comes across something in his accessories and mentally kicks himself for not thinking of it sooner. The body harness he chooses is among his simplest. It’s only a little more than a choker that connects to a few waist belts. There’s a couple other straps that cover his chest and a chain he can connect to the choker, but he leaves that off. The silver fastens stand out against his otherwise all black attire, and causes the thin tunic to give him a proper silhouette.

He pulls up some of his hair into a messy bun and lets the rest of it fall naturally. Lipgloss is considered, but it’s a little windy and he doesn’t want to deal with hair clinging to his lips.

By the time he shoves the clothes mess back into the closet, he’s running late and his ride is taking fucking forever.

When he gets to the bar, Andon and Felix are already on the last few sips of their drinks.

Felix is still in the same good mood as earlier. His hair is now washed and pushed back with a plastic headband instead of a cloth one. He waves over at Yuri, that big smile on his face giving him eye wrinkles that Yuri hadn’t noticed in the locker room.

Andon is standing next to him, looking as put together as always. He greets Yuri with a small nod before taking a sip of his drink.

“Want us to get you something?” he offers, and Yuri shrugs.

“Just a vodka cran,” he tells him, and Andon responds with an amused smile and a look to Felix before getting his drink.

Felix pulls a stool closer to him, and Yuri takes a seat. The bar is small and dimly lit, and it’s a surprisingly young crowd for its aesthetics.

“You look nice,” Felix tells him, taking another drink. He gets a whiff of the unmistakable scent of rum and coke when he does, “I like the, ugh, belt stuff.”

Yuri smiles and responds with a thank you that is immediately repeated when Andon returns and puts his drink in front of him, “It’s a body harness,” he informs Felix. He doubts he actually cares what it’s called, but Yuri figures everyone should have the knowledge. Just in case they’re ever in the market for one themselves.

“Kinky,” Andon comments, stone-faced but quite clearly staring at how the straps dig into Yuri’s chest.

Yuri sees Felix’s smile drop for the first time that day as he looks to his teammate nervously. He thinks he’s coming on too strong. That’s cute. If only they knew.

The short laugh that comes out of Yuri’s mouth is fake, but not forced, “It technically was from a sex shop, but I think it’s cute,” he tells them, smirking as he takes a drink.

Felix looks confused and conflicted as all hell, and finishes off his drink just to give himself an excuse to leave the table.

“So you and Felix are pretty close I take it?” Yuri asks, hoping he hasn’t misread the situation. It’s clear Andon is  into him, but he’s not sure if he’s using Felix as a wingman or they’re interested in him _together_.

Andon nods, “We grew up playing together,” he tells him with a glance over at where Felix hurried off to. His voice is low, and Yuri has to strain to hear it, especially in the current atmosphere.

“You guys go out a lot together?” he asks, and Andon looks at him suspiciously.

“When we have time,” he answers, “Yuri, if you want to know why we asked you to come out tonight, you can just ask.”

Yuri straightens up in his seat and opens his mouth to speak, but is interrupted by Felix coming back with three drinks balanced in his hands. Two are more rum and cokes, but the last is a cotton candy pink drink with a slight fizz.

Felix sets it down in front of Yuri with a grin. Yuri’s eyebrows furrow at it.

“Um,” he begins, “what is it?”

Felix takes his seat, still a proud smile on his face. God, he reminds Yuri so much of some dumb giant and gold dog. He can’t remember what they’re called for the life of him. His only experience with dogs are Makkachin and the mutt Otabek found in the rain a few years ago.

“It’s called the ‘Fairy Princess,’ but I’m pretty sure it’s just cranberry lemonade and rum. Maybe some club soda. I don’t know I couldn’t really read it, but I saw it and thought of you because you’re ‘Russia’s Fairy,’ you know?”

Yuri looks up at Felix and then Andon. Their expressions are polar opposites.

“And you said it’d be wrong to just go ahead him a vodka cran?” Andon groans out, and Yuri is laughing despite himself.

“It’s wrong to order anyone a drink when you don’t know their preferences!” Felix argues, he looks confused as all fuck for a while before the realization dawns on him, “You thought I was getting mad at you for stereotyping,” Felix says quietly, “I get it now. Well, I mean, yes, shame on you for that, but I thought you were just throwing out a generic drink.”

Andon smiles at the confession, it’s the happiest Yuri’s seen him look.

The drink is pretty great, but Yuri’s not surprised. He drinks it rather quickly while taking the backseat for a bit and just watching Andon and Felix interact.

“Andon was going to tell me why you guys invited me out tonight,” Yuri informs Felix, to which he responds with a nervous laugh.

“Can we not just want to be friends with one of the ice skaters we share a rink with?” he asks. Andon rolls his eyes.

“Felix, I think it’s pretty obvious Yuri’s not going to run away at the mention of a threesome. None of the usual courting is necessary.”

Yuri looks between them, “Usual courting?”

Andon nods, “Usually two one night stands with us individually before we get them to come to bed with both of us.”

“So you guys do this a lot?”

Felix looks sheepish as Andon continues to speak for the both of them, “Not as much as we’d like to,” he admits.

“Not everyone is a slut like me,” Yuri hums in sympathy. It makes Felix laugh again, which is good, because Yuri doesn’t really like uncomfortable Felix.

Felix takes a big gulp of his drink, “A lot of them get weirded out by our relationship,too.”

Anton nods in agreement, and Yuri cocks his head in confusion, “Which is?”

“We love each other,” Andon blurts out, and Felix’s smile turns into a lovestruck one that a younger Yuri would’ve gagged at. Now he can relate, “Platonically and romantically, but, like, we’re not compatible sexually,” Andon pauses and looks over at Felix who gives him an encouraging smile, “And I know that sounds vain or just downright weird, and you’re going to judge us even more because the main reason we’re not compatible is that we both like being in control.”

Yuri flicks his eyes between the two of them with his straw in his mouth, he pops off his drink with a smile and the sour taste of cran-lemon on his tongue, “So what you’re saying is, you’re both tops? Could you guys be any more of walking stereotypes?”

Andon looks at him with an accusatory gaze, “And how often do you switch it up, Plisetsky?” he asks.

“My jokes come from sympathy,” he tells them, “You wouldn’t believe the shit I get for being a pretty boy who likes taking it up the ass. My existence is perpetuating a toxic heteronormative culture or some crap.”

“Let’s drink to that,” Felix suggests, raising his glass. Yuri joins in with an amused smile, finishing his drink in a couple gulps.

“So you’re up for it then?” Felix asks. He’s also finished his drink, and Andon’s not far behind.

“Of course I’m up for it,” Yuri responds, hopping down from his stool and taking the first glance at his phone since he’d gotten dressed.

There’s a couple SNS notifications, but only one text, it’s a thumbs up emoji Otabek, and Yuri responds back with the same.

\--

Andon’s apartment is just a short walk away from the bar. There’s a heavy moment of silence when the door closes behind them, but Andon breaks it with a quiet, deep, “Fuck it,” before grabbing the other two’s hands and guiding them to the bedroom.

Felix is kissing Yuri once Andon let’s go of the two of them, and Andon goes over to the end table, taking out some lube and tossing it on the bed.

Yuri’s hands wander over Felix’s broad chest and arms. He gropes at his pecs and smiles against the kiss when Felix responds by squeezing his ass.

Someone grabs his hair and Yuri jumps in surprise before whining as the hand he know realizes belongs to Andon gently tugs on the locks to lead him to the bed. Felix follows, taking of his shirt as he does so, and Yuri feels his mouth go dry at the sight.

Because yeah, he’s been with muscular guys, bigger guys. He’s been with all sorts of guys. But there’s just something about the way Felix is built, broad frame with muscles that are subtly defined, a natural, not cosmetic strength, that makes Yuri want to get on his knees and just fucking mouth at his dick while breathing in his musky scent.

Andon’s messing with his tunic, and Felix is shucking off his pants, and Yuri is already overwhelmed just not knowing who to pay attention to.

“How much was this shirt?” Andon asks, and Yuri looks up at him with a parted mouth.

“It’s replaceable if you’re going to rip it off,” he tells him, and that’s all the confirmation Andon needs to fucking tear into the sheer fabric. He rips it like it was paper, and his leggings do nothing to hide the reaction to the reminder of his strength.

Yuri realizes the motivation behind it once he feels Felix tug on a strap from the body harness.

“It’s going to be fun to fuck you in that,” Andon comments, expressing Felix’s thoughts for him.

Yuri helps Felix get him out of his leggings with a little wiggling, and then they’re both looking down at Yuri. The overwhelmed feeling comes back. This isn’t his first time with two guys at once, but it’s still just as intense.

“So which one of you studs is taking my ass first, huh?” he asks, raising an expectant eyebrow at Felix who still hasn’t joined them on the bed. He spreads his legs for him, watching the way Felix’s immediately focus in on his groin.

“Well I guess when you claim in interviews that your gossip isn’t accurate; it’s true,” Felix comments with his sunny smile, “You have even less shame than they claim.”

Yuri laughs and lets his head be pulled into Andon’s lap. Oh. Now bare lap. He twists his head to get a look at his dick, and tge strain in his neck is worth it when he gets the perfect view of him.

He’s fisting himself with a loose grip, and Yuri isn’t ashamed to admit he licks his lips. Andon is just as well-kept and clean down there as the rest of him, his uncut dick a darker shade than the rest of him. Yuri strains his neck more and reaches up, like a kitten pawing at a toy to bring the head to his mouth. He tastes the way an old-fashioned cologne smells, oddly comforting and familiar.

Andon’s strokes his shoulder, as if trying to comfort him. A warm mouth envelops his own cock, and Andon’s dick slips out of Yuri’s mouth when he gasps, slapping against his nose leaving a trail of precum and saliva on his face.

Felix is as enthusiastic in sucking cock as he is with everything else. The slurping noises he makes mirror Yuri’s as he takes Andon back into his mouth.

Even if he wasn’t out of practice at the moment, Yuri wouldn’t be able to take Andon fully in his mouth without spluttering and gagging and maybe something worse.

“Get it real wet,” Andon breathes out, and Yuri looks up at him curiously. The hand on his shoulder has moved to pet his hair, the other keeps him propped up at an easy angle for Yuri to get his mouth on him.

He knows he can feel the way he hitches and gasps when he tugs his hair or when he pushes him down just a little too far. Their eyes meet a second time and Yuri knows there’s a mutual understanding there. He knows Andon would be willing to wreck him tonight.

“Drool on it,” he orders again, “Get it nice and wet so I can rub it all over your pretty face and cover you in your own filthy spit.”

Yuri moans around the member in his mouth and does as he’s told, working against Andon’s hand when he pulls him off by the hair.

His disappointment continues when Felix’s warm mouth leaves his dick. He looks down at him to see him staring straight back, eyes dilated as he watches Andon and Yuri together. Andon's dick slaps wetly against Yuri’s already saliva ridden cheek, and then he makes good on his promise.

Yuri keeps his tongue out and lips wet while Andon slides his dick over his face. It doesn’t take long for Yuri’s face to be filthy and wet. His own dick is also still wet from Felix’s mouth, only now the cool air of the room is hitting it and making his knees buckle in discomfort.

Which is troublesome because Yuri thrives on the touch of pain or discomfort during sex, but no one is paying attention to his ass or dick at the moment.

He whines, and Felix turns his attention away from kissing Andon -- Yuri hadn’t even noticed -- to Yuri’s face.

“What do you need, princess?” he asks, and, god, Yuri has no idea why that petname is so hot right now.

“Either get back on my dick or fuck me,” he demands, impatient and whiny because the cold breeze on his lower half and Andon jerking off against his face is really fucking getting to him.

Felix responds with an, “Of course,” and goes in and kisses Yuri on a filthy cheek before finally pulling of his own underwear and grabbing the bottle of lube.

He coats his cock before hurriedly opening Yuri’s asshole with a few curved tips of his fingers and then he’s thrusting inside of him, slowly at first, opening him up with his cock rather than his fingers.

Andon tugs him by the hair so he’s facing his crotch, cock resting on the side of his face. He fists his cock for a bit longer before cupping his palm over his cheek and fucking into the pocket he creates there.

They keep him like that for a while, each of them going at with their grunts and whispers of curse words, Yuri pressed hard against the bed under him, bent in half and twisted a little as well. Felix uses the harness to his advantage as promised, holding him by the leather straps around the waist rather than his hips. Yuri loves the way the harness feels biting against his skin.

He honestly doesn’t expect Andon to be the one cumming first. Pulling away to rest his cock against Yuri’s lips while he fists himself with a tight grip. He comes in strips of white all over Yuri’s already ruined face, and milks it out with one hand while the other keeps a deep grip on the bun in Yuri’s hair. It’s about to fall out of the hair-tie it’s in, but Yuri really doesn’t give a shit at the moment.

A pillow is placed under his head when Andon wiggles out from under him, and Yuri is forced to focus on the feeling of Felix thrusting in him now. He has to be at least as big as Andon if not bigger. Yuri regrets not taking a peak when he had a chance.

Andon is standing beside the bed now, watching Yuri take Felix’s dick like it’s the most recent blockbuster.

And then he looks like he’s trying to solve a math problem.

“You’re really flexible, aren’t you Yuri?” Andon asks.

Yuri breathes out a, “Yes,” and Andon nods thoughtfully.

“Ever tried sucking yourself off?” he continues, and Felix’s movements stop with a jerking thrust.

At first Yuri thinks he might be having some weird orgasm, but nope, he pulls out still rock hard, Yuri’s hole clenching around nothing and forcing a whine out of him.

“I did when I was younger. Like a lot younger. I’m not a horny teenager anymore so I haven’t tried anytime recently,” Yuri tells them, rushing through his words because god he would really enjoy having Felix’s dick back in him.

“Try again for us?” Felix suggests, breathless as he looks down at Yuri.

Yuri shrugs and attempts to fold himself like he used to, back before him and Otabek started dating, before he realized it was pretty easy to find a guy who was willing to fuck him. It takes a little more work than it did when he was younger, but eventually he’s able to get the head of his cock past his own lips.

He looks up at Andon and Felix for approval and gets two identical gaping stares.

Felix’s hand touches where his rests on the back of his thigh. Yuri feels like he’s about to blow, so he stops himself from doing too much to his cock, just letting the tip rest in his mouth seems to satisfy their request.

“I’m going to fuck you while you blow yourself,” Felix tells him, and then blinks when he realizes he meant to form that as a question and not a statement, “Is that okay?”

Yuri does his best to nod from the position he’s in, and soon Felix is back inside of him, fucking him with that same ruthless pace he’d had before. It forces Yuri’s cock to bob in his mouth, and that, plus the strain on his muscles from being bent like this has him releasing into his mouth the next time Felix brushes his prostate.

His muscles quiver and shake at the powerful orgasm, his own cum spills from his lips because it’s hard not to gasp when his ass is being fucked through his orgasm.

By the time Felix finishes, Yuri is about to cry from the overstimulation to his prostate. Andon is back to petting his hair, boxer briefs on and looking like he’s ready to go again, but he doesn’t say anything.

Felix’s orgasm is signaled by a few slow and deep thrusts as he lets Yuri’s ass milk his cock. He pulls out and Yuri finds himself burying his face against Andon’s bare thigh and letting out a sob.

When he turns back to Felix, he has a apologetic smile on his face.

“Ugh,” he begins, “Sorry, sometimes it takes me a while.”

Yuri takes a deep breath and looks up at the two, “S’fine. It was just a little… intense,” he muses, then sits up on the bed, ignoring the cum that spills down his thighs when he does.

“Shower?” Andon suggests, and Yuri groans out what he hopes is a sound of agreement.

“Carry me, please,” he whines, to neither one in particular. He hears them bump heads both moving to pick him up.

Andon ends up being the one to carry him, because Felix’s legs are a little shaky and apparently it’s his turn to change the bed sheets too.

He snaps one of the silver clasps on the harness off while taking it off of him, and is a bumbling mess of apologies while Yuri laughs and tells him it was cheap as fuck.

Felix joins them later in the shower when Andon’s finished washing Yuri and is working on scrubbing his own hair.

When they return to the bed there’s fresh sheets and a plate of what looks like peanut butter sandwiches. Yuri eats two and helps himself to the unopened bag of chips as well.

Both Andon and Felix eat with him while exchanging awkward looks.

“If you guys are thinking about kicking me out forget about it. I’m tired as fuck, and I don’t want to deal with a talkative driver right now.”

Andon shrugs and Felix’s smile returns as they fetch an extra pair of makeshift pajamas for Yuri. He takes the shirt and the sweats and hopes they’ll be warm enough because holy hell did they keep their apartment cold.

His phone says he’s missed a FaceTime call from Otabek, and there’s also a text from him.

_How’d it go? Call me when you can!_

And then a happy cat emoji.

“You mind if I call Otabek?” he asks the couple as they slide into bed with him.

Andon’s eyebrows crinkle so much they almost touch, and Felix looks confused as hell.

“The Kazakh skater?” Andon asks, and Yuri nods.

“My boyfriend,” Yuri elaborates, Anton and Felix share worried looks.

“You have a boyfriend?” Felix asks, and Yuri rolls his eyes.

“Oh? So you guys are allowed to be a couple and fuck other people, but I’m not allowed to have a boyfriend too?”

Felix shakes his head, his worried expression turns to terrified, “I mean, just, is he okay with it?”

Yuri looks at him with what he hopes is a reassuring smile. Felix definitely misinterpreted his anger, “Yeah,” he tells him, “He’s into it.”

Now he’s gaping at him, so it’s Andon that finally agrees.

“Fine, sure, call him.”

Yuri beams at him before touching the green call button. Otabek picks up almost right away.

“Hi Beka!” Yuri greets.

He gets a crackly, “Hello, Yura,” in response before turning his phone camera to show Felix and Andon.

“Meet Felix and Andon.”

Their awkward waves to the phone have Yuri doubling over in laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk why i like writing about yuri getting rawed so much
> 
> also this is a fic. don't have unprotected sex with random people irl.
> 
> talk to me on [tumblr](babypeche.tumblr.com)


	2. DudeBro/FuckBoy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go again. Thanks for all the kind words last chapter! Hope I can continue posting a chapter/day, but who knows how it'll go with my class and other things.

It gets incredibly easier. 

He gets a text from Felix a few days later with a few crying emojis and praying hands and a paragraph of, “I’m sorry,” and Yuri stares at his phone in confusion until a more coherent text comes.

_ Me and Andon went out drinking with some of the team and we might have bragged about sleeping with you >< pls don’t kill us!!! _

Yuri’s pretty sure his laugh sounds maniacal. He shoots back a quick, “ _ Don’t worry. I’m not mad, _ ” before he goes back to making his dinner.

The locker room is filled with awkward, barely hidden stares, but no one approaches him until he’s about to leave. The rest of the team is already huddled around their coach, but one of their teammates is just now getting there. 

He grabs Yuri by the arm as he passes him, and Yuri looks up with a glare before he remembers he has a mission to fuck this dude and forces his face to soften.

The dude stares at him, and Yuri recognizes him as the Canadian dude called Peter. Yuri’s not sure where the super nice and polite Canadian stereotype came from because if Peter and JJ are anything to go by Canada’s full of egocentric pricks.

Peter’s so full of it, he has more fans from his softcore pornographical instagram selfies than he does his hockey career. He’s got a constant tan that Yuri figures has to be from a salon somewhere and uses too much product in his short, spiky hair. 

He figures he’s from Quebec like JJ since Yuri’s seen him using French on social media and the girl who runs the front desk on Tuesdays.

“I’m not buying it,” Peter tells him in accented Russian, “No way you let Andon and Felix into your bed.”

Yuri shrugs and pulls his arm away when the guy’s grip loosens, “Technically, they let me into Andon’s bed. Or their shared bed. Not quite sure.”

Peter looks at him with a smirk, and Yuri tries to keep his disgust off his face. The asshole looks so smug. 

“I think they just read too many rumors about you and decided they’d make up a fantasy for themselves,” Peter challenges, and Yuri mirrors his smirk.

“You spend a lot of time reading rumors about me?” Yuri asks, and Peter’s hand jingles something in his pants pocket.

“Maybe I do,” he admits, “But I never really thought you’d be as much of a slut as everyone says you are.”

“Well now you have your answer,” Yuri really wishes he wasn’t on a mission to fuck all these assholes because he would really rather be out getting food than talking to Peter.

“I want a more definite answer,” Peter tells him, and then he pulls out a single key from his pocket, “If you’re really as big of cockslut as they claim, then go let yourself into my apartment and let me come home to you in nothing but one of my jerseys.”

Yuri stares at him, blank and lost for words, but he grabs the key anyways. He really can’t believe this dude is letting a practical stranger into his house alone just to have a good fuck. It would be flattering if it was anyone besides Peter.

Peter’s confidence falters for a second when Yuri snatches the keys. Fucker really thought he wouldn’t do it?

With a deep breath, Yuri takes out his phone and thrusts it at Peter’s still outstretched hand, “I need an address, Einstein,” he reminds him, and Peter almost drops his phone while scrambling to create a contact for himself, complete with his home address.

He takes his phone back and watches Peter get yelled at for coming in late before heading out of the rink.

\---

Yuri arrives at Peter’s place with the goal to eat every piece of decent food he owns. All he finds is protein powder, granola bars, and three cartons of eggs, so he groans and orders delivery while snooping around his apartment. 

Normally, he would stay away from cheese, carbs, and wine right before he has sex, but it’s Peter, and he really doesn’t give a fuck, so he lets himself devour the pizza when it arrives and washes it down with the nicest looking wine he finds in a well-stocked liquor closet. He’s not sure if wine and pizza are a normal combo, but the fucker didn’t have any beer, and Yuri figures if you have it with pasta it can go with pizza.

He’s chugged two full glasses before he finally goes in search for a jersey like Peter asked, not sure why he’s amusing the bastard to such a degree.

The first one he grabs smells like it hasn’t been washed in decades, so he digs around for another one and then finds some febreeze to spray it with for good measure. He drops his own clothes on a beat-up comfy chair in the bedroom before pulling the jersey on.

It falls to mid-thigh, just as he expected. Peter’s one of the taller guys on the team, and he also has  _ much _ broader shoulders than Yuri. He’s drowning in it less than he expected.

He eats another slice of pizza and pours himself another glass of wine. The bottle’s over halfway gone now, and Yuri really hopes it’s an expensive one.

Peter comes into the apartment with clamouring noises from his bag hitting the door and wall. He hears the bag drop on the floor before the door closes, and Peter enters the kitchen without taking off his shoes.

When he sees Yuri standing there, he looks shocked for a moment before his face settles back onto a smug smile.

“You look good in that,” he tells Yuri, but his eyes linger longer on the pizza, “I was going to ask if you wanted me to pick you something up to eat, since my housekeeper is on vacation and hasn’t gotten any groceries, but it seems you already have that covered. And you also didn’t give me your number,” Peter waves his phone expectantly, and Yuri really wishes he could deny and still fuck this dude. 

But he’s not a quitter. Or a cheater, so he takes the phone from Peter and puts his contact info before handing it back.

He wants to clock the dude over the head when he types in a message and watches to see if Yuri’s phone lights up.

“Mind if I have some?” he asks, turning his attention to the half-gone pizza, and Yuri shrugs, taking a gulp of his wine and wishing he hadn’t built up such a high alcohol tolerance over the years because this would be a lot easier drunk.

Peter grabs a piece and eats it off of a paper napkin and is halfway done when he notices the wine. Yuri watches him swallow and dab off the sauce he got on his mouth with another napkin. He misses some, but Yuri doesn’t see the point in mentioning it.

“You opened up the Napa Cabernet?” he asks, and Yuri glances over at the bottle.

“I guess,” he says, squinting at the lettering that covers the label. How does anyone read that shit?

“A Pinot noir would’ve been better,” he informs Yuri, and Yuri hums in understanding before finishing off his glass. He’s about to pour himself another when Peter snatches it out of reach.

“Sit down,” he tells him, and Yuri looks over at the small table he’d been ignoring. The chairs look uncomfortable as fuck. 

He sits anyways, on the very edge because its seat is slanted and if he scoots back at all his bare thighs fight to not slide down.

Peter joins him with two new full glasses of wine and the rest of the pizza now on a plate. 

“Try it,” Peter urges him on, and Yuri humors him with a small smile as takes a sip of the wine.

He can’t tell the fucking difference.

“It’s good.”

Peter breathes out a proud chuckle, “My father taught me everything there is to know about wines starting when I was 15. It’s not ideal for an athlete’s diet, but I indulge every now and then.”

Yuri grunts in agreement and takes a bigger drink that he knows can’t be proper wine drinking etiquette. 

Peter finishes his dinner and sips at his wine while Yuri pours himself more. He’s about to sit down with his drink when it’s snatched out of his hand and placed back on the counter.

The taste of wine is replaced with minty-chapstick mixed with marinara sauce when Peter’s lips crash against his own.

“Do you know how good you look in my jersey?” Peter asks him, hands pushing it up as he gropes at his ass.

Yuri leans into his touch, his hands are greasy against Yuri’s skin from the pizza, and he hates how that feeling is what has his dick intrigued.

“Why don’t you tell me?” Yuri responds, moving fingernails over his clothed back and trying to ignore his thoughts that are telling him to push this dude off and get back to the wine.

He yelps when Peter’s hands grab tightly at his ass and practically lift him up by it and is quick to wrap his legs and arms around Peter before the guy can cause his asshole damage before even fucking him. 

Yuri’s just getting comfortable when he’s dumped onto a half-made bed. Peter’s over at his dresser when Yuri looks up, fumbling with a remote to a stereo before some experimental R&B starts playing through the built in speakers on the ceiling. He turns it down and tugs off his shirt before joining Yuri on the bed.

He takes his time to lean down and kiss Yuri, showing off his muscular chest and abs. Yuri has to hold back a grimace at the uneven tribal tattoo wrapped around his bicep. He thumbs at Yuri’s nipples as he kisses him, rubbing them through the jersey. His tongue pushes against Yuri’s, licking into his mouth and moving so much it’s hard for Yuri to move against him.

When he pulls off they connect with a strip of saliva, that Peter lets break as he sits up. 

“Let daddy fuck your mouth,” he says, unbuttoning his pants and pulling them down with his boxers. Yuri fights the urge to gag, “Come on, baby. Get on your knees and suck me off.”

Yuri closes his eyes for a long moment in replace of a sigh before climbing off the bed and crawling over to Peter, looking up to see his lips part and eyes widen at him  _ actually _ crawling. 

“Big enough for a slut like you?” Peter chokes out, and Yuri looks up at him as he licks up his shaft, hoping that’ll be enough of a response for him. Peter smirks down at him, “Fuck, Yuri. You look good with a dick in your face.”

Yuri will admit that Peter is well-endowed, even if it’s veiny and a little angry-looking hard. He sucks his head into his mouth, not sure if he’s happy or sad it’s not the worst dick he’s tasted. Yuri’s happy to stick to half of him sliding in and out of his mouth as he swirls his tongue, using his hand on the rest of him, but Peter seems to have other ideas. 

He knows it’s coming when he feels a tight grip on his hair and, of course, Peter pistons his hips forward, holding him in place by his hair.

Yuri splutters and drools around him as he pushes down his throat, giving Yuri barely enough time to relax and not gag too much. 

“Oh, god, your mouth was made for this, Yuri,” Peter says above him, and Yuri grips at his thighs so his knees don’t rub on the carpet more than they already have.

His moans are loud and cover up the glugging and slapping made by fucking Yuri’s face. When he finally pulls Yuri off by his hair, bunched up like a pony tail in a tight fist, his face is red and splotchy. 

Yuri stands before Peter gets the chance to lead him back onto the bed by his hair, grunting when he’s turned around and pushed down face-first. He climbs up onto the bed the rest of the way, listening to Peter moving behind him.

“Let me try fucking you with just spit,” he suggests, and Yuri takes a deep breath in and out.

“You don’t have lube?” he asks, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice as he feels Peter’s hand massage at one of his ass cheeks. He doesn’t want to kill the mood primarily just so they can be done sooner. 

He looks behind him to see Peter chewing on his lip, staring down at his ass.

Their eyes meet, Yuri’s shaded in his lashes, and Peter finally throws open his bedside drawer and takes out a small thing of lube. 

Yuri turns back to face the wall. When he’d strained his neck for Andon, it ended up sore for two full days. 

Peter is grabbing a fistfull of his hair as he pushes into him slowly; he hadn’t bothered to stretch him with fingers, so now his dick has to do all the work. He fucks into him with shallow thrusts at first, only getting halfway or so in. 

And then he pushes in all at once, rather violently, and Yuri has to claw into the sheets to not fall onto his face. The pull on his hair starts to sting at his scalp, and Yuri’s hopes of having a comfortable neck for a while start fleeting when he has to bend it back so the pressure on his scalp will lessen.

“You’re so tight,” Peter pants above him, and he sounds so far gone already and Yuri doubts he’ll be giving any attention to his cock, so he reaches under him, maneuvering the jersey to get his dick in hand and jerk himself off.

“So fucking tight, Yuri,” he breathes again, “You’d never guess you’re such a slut.”

A couple of thrusts into him are at the right angle to hit his prostate, and the accomplishment of getting Yuri to cry out is what does it for Peter. 

Yuri fucks his hand through Peter’s orgasm and soon he’s spilling as well, glad he doesn’t have to humor Peter through a guided handjob or some shit. 

Peter stays draped over his back for a while, and Yuri commends himself for being a saint of patience while he waits for him to roll off and lay on the bed. Yuri’s up and off the bed at once, cracking his neck when he stands and walks over to his clothes. 

Without an extra look at Peter he’s going to the en suite to clean up and change. He follows Yuri out of the room in his boxers, watching him from an unsure distance, but still with an annoyingly smug smile. 

“Sure you want to leave so soon?” he asks, and flashes him a final fake smile before finishing off his abandoned wine and heading out the door. 

He calls a ride from a nearby 24/7 diner, and sends a few texts to Otabek on the way home.

_ “3 down,”  _ he tells him, and then, without waiting for a reply adds,  _ “i’m taking a shower as soon as i get home. And then a bath while we facetime. You better be ready to accept my call.” _

He drops his phone back in his lap and watches the lights pass the rest of the way home. 

What he sees when he checks his phone again has him throwing it across the room, luckily, onto a couch. 

**_54petermarques_ ** _ tagged you in a post. _

He opens the Instagram notification to see a selfie from Peter. Only the top of his head is shown, product-ridden a hair a mess while he winks, and in the background is the unmistakable blond mess of Yuri’s hair, walking to the bathroom with the jersey still on.

It’s captioned:  _ “Fun night with @yuri-plisetsky ;)” _

Yuri does his best not to scream as he climbs into the shower, turning it up as hot as he can handle.

He has a text from Otabek and another from  _ JJ _ of all people when he gets out.

Otabek’s is simple enough:  _ “call me when you’re ready. I’ll stay up.” _

Whereas JJ’s has all the anger coming back to Yuri, “ _ omg!!! you slept with peter!?!? (ᗒᗜᗕ)՛̵̖” _

He ignores it and goes to the kitchen to make himself some tea and then get his bath ready. When he returns there’s another text from JJ.

_ “has he gotten any better ??? lol he were teenagers back then but he was probs my worst” _

Yuri stares at his phone in blank horror as another one comes in.

_ “lol so like there’s a term penis cousins when two dudes fuck the same person so are we like ass cousins now???? （＞ｙ＜）” _

He steps in the tub with his tablet and calls Otabek, putting on his best sad face for when he picks up.

His boyfriend is laying in bed, probably on his laptop doing something.

“You okay?” Otabek asks and Yuri lets out an exaggerated sigh.

“He posted a photo on his Instagram!” Yuri whines, “And now JJ keeps texting me about it because apparently they’ve slept together! I’ve stooped to JJ’s level!”

Otabek’s stoic expression shows a hint of amusement on the screen, “I’ve slept with JJ, Yuri. You were already at his level.”

Yuri’s groan covers up Otabek’s laugh, “That’s different! You’re you! I should be ‘ass cousins,’ -- and that’s an actual fucking term he sent to me -- with the fucking world! But Peter is not you. And now I have to know that i willingly slept with a dude even  _ JJ  _ thought was bad in bed.”

Otabek gives him a comforting smile, “Yeah, I remember JJ complaining about him.:

“And you didn’t tell me this dude was on the hockey team I planned on fucking?”

Yuri almost can’t stay mad at Otabek’s guilty expression.

“I forgot he moved to St. Petersburg! Honest.”

Yuri’s eyes narrow when Otabek smirks.

“But also I kind of like the thought of you getting fucked by an overconfident dudebro hockey player.”

If he wasn’t in the tub he’d have thrown the tablet down.

“I hate you,” he tells Otabek, but smiles at Otabek’s laugh.

“Love you, too,” he responds, and Yuri makes an angry kissy face at the screen before hanging up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly this was supposed to be so much worse, but I couldn't handle it. As always, find me on tumblr @ [babypeche](babypeche.tumblr.com)


	3. Nerd Dude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly still can't believe people are reading and enjoying this fic. It feels way too self-indulgent.

Yuri gets a lot of texts that next morning. A lot of people asking if him and Peter are dating, a lot of wtf’s, and just a simple, “lol” from Mila.

The only one that stands out is from an unknown number. 

_ Peter said you wanted to go on a date with me???  _

It’s followed up by several more,

_ Well he actually said you wanted to sleep with me… _

_ But that seems a little out there _

_ Oh, this is James by the way _

_ From the hockey team at the rink _

_ I would like to take you put sometime _

_ I mean out _

_ You’re pretty _

_ Kind of like Link from the first Zelda switch game _

_ If he grew out his hair _

_ I had a lot of weird sex dreams because of the fanart of him with the shark dude or in the gerudo outfit _

_ Sorry that’s tmi isn’t it _

_ I haven’t been on a date for a while but if you’d want to get coffee or something??? _

Yuri doesn’t know if he has the energy for this, but he texts back anyways.

_ Coffee would be nice :) _

And then he sends a variety of  _ fuck off _ to everyone else.

He doesn’t have practice today, but he kind of doubts James would want to go out this morning after seeing the photo his teammate posted, so he makes himself breakfast and puts on a drama-filled reality TV show as background noise.

Yuuri sends him a concerned text asking about Peter, to which Yuri replies with a slightly kinder version of  _ fuck off, i’m not dating him, _ before scrolling through his fans’ reactions.

There’s a shitty article written about it too, and Yuri grimaces through it as it goes on and on talking about Peter’s past lovers and girlfriends. 

Yuri goes to instagram and posts a picture of him and Otabek kissing with hashtags including, #onlyoneforme #openrelationship and #fuckoff.

Hopefully that’ll cool the storm for a bit.

James finally texts him back about an hour later, after Yuri’s cleaned up his kitchen -- to his version of clean, not to Otabek-style clean -- and shoved some laundry into his dresser.

_ So coffee??? When??? _

His phone chimes a second later.

_ You know when my practice is I don’t really do anything besides that _

_ Except on Friday nights but if I told my friends they’d understand _

_ If you wanna do something else than get coffee we can _

_ I’m also free today if you want to _

Yuri rushes to send a text before James can get another through.

_ Today works. We can do anything you want to. It doesn’t have to be coffee. _

James takes a while to reply just like before.

_ You could just come over?? I don’t really like going out… _

Yuri sends a quick, “ok,” before he can second-guess himself, and then he has an address sent to him.

It’s starting to feel like a job. Which is probably something him and Otabek will roleplay the next time they’re together. He loves the idea of being Otabek’s prostitute boyfriend.

He doesn’t bother dressing up. After Peter his expectations are low as fuck. He kind of wishes he hadn’t started with Andon and Felix. They’d been enjoyable. 

But he can’t let Peter get him down. He can’t let anyone get him down. Because Mila’s not going to beat him at this. No way in hell will he let her win. 

James has a ground-floor apartment on the outskirts of the city. It’s much quieter than where Yuri lives, but also a little sketchier. When he knocks on the door, he hears a small crash and a slurry of curse words, and he waits a full minute for James to finally open.

His apartment is a mess. And that’s coming from Yuri. The Yuri who leaves chip bags in his bed and lost his laptop under his couch one time. The one who once let oatmeal cement so badly onto a bowl that he had to throw it out.

James’s apartment makes him look like a clean freak.

To Yuri’s relief, it’s not trash that litters the floor. Well, probably not trash to James. He has so much shit, and it’s all just stacked haphazardly around the main room. The crash turns out to be a large pile of books that fell over.

Yuri reaches down to pick one up and James pales. 

“Um,” he begins, “I was going to throw those out. You know since nothing’s canon in them anymore. And I have too many books, and they’re not even that good, but, I just haven’t gotten around to it.”

Yuri squints to read the English on the cover:  _ Star Wars: X-Wing, The Kryptos Trap _ .

“Yeah,” Yuri agrees, not sure what the fuck he’s just gotten himself into.

“Have you watched Star Wars?” he asks, and Yuri wishes he could answer no just so he won’t have to talk about it, but if he does that then he’ll probably be forced to sit through all 6 movies, so he answers honestly.

“Yeah,” he says again, rocking back and forth on his feet because the way James is staring at him while they stand on the one empty part of carpet is making Yuri a little uncomfortable.

It’s not like James isn’t attractive. Or, at least, he isn’t ugly. He has thick brown hair and untrimmed eyebrows, his stubble is starting to grow in, and at least that is pretty even and not a mess. His features are low-set, and his skin a little doughy, but when he smiles he looks kind of cute. Maybe not Yuri’s type, but not the worse looking guy he’s seen. 

“Which is your favorite?” he asks, and Yuri blanks. He’s watched them once. Once on a dusty laptop with Emil, Georgi, and some Swedish skater when they’d been stuck in an airport. Emil had been the only one with movies on his laptop, and he’d gone near berserk when Yuri told him he hadn’t seen them.

“The second one?” he tries, and James doesn’t seem too pleased with his answer, but he drops the subject.

Yuri kind of wishes he’d pick it up again. Because know they’re just standing there in silence. In his messy ass apartment. One of the books slides down the pile and hits Yuri in the feet; that seems to shock James back into reality.

“Oh! Um,” he straightens up, “Do you want to… ugh, I have a couch in my room that’s clean if you want to go sit. I can get you something to drink?” He points towards the direction of his room and Yuri is on his way there in a heartbeat. He just wants to get this over with. 

“I’m good,” he says hurriedly as he leaves, and he hears James stumble on books as he fumbles after him.

When Yuri turns around to face him in the bedroom, James looks like a deer caught in headlights.

“Listen,” he begins, swallowing around what Yuri really hopes aren’t tears, “I know you like to sleep around for some reason. I know you slept with Peter and Andon and Felix. And Peter says you want to sleep with me. I don’t know why or if it’s even true. But if this is a joke you can leave now and tell Peter or whoever else is in on this that it isn’t funny.”

Now it’s Yuri’s turn to be the deer. 

“James,” he starts, but James cuts him off with more word vomit.

“Because it wasn’t funny the first time, and Peter needs to remember how shitty I played when it got revealed Edna wasn’t real. If he wants to win any games in the future he should drop this whole prankster thing and find something else to amuse him.”

Yuri stares, and then James is crying, and Yuri doesn’t know what else to do but join him on the “clean” couch of the bedroom, awkwardly holding him as he cries into Yuri’s shoulder.

He wants to say that he can’t believe Peter did something like that, but he can. Anyone with enough dumb courage and lack of empathy to post a selfie with a one-night-stand without asking is a big enough asshole to catfish his teammate.

“It’s not a joke, James,” Yuri tells him, trying to use that comforting voice Yuuko used to use on him when he and Viktor got into fights back in Japan. (Turns out they were way too similar for the whole coach-student relationship to work).

“It’s not?” James splutters out, and Yuri gives him a reassuring smile when he looks up.

“I promise it’s not,” he assures him, and then pauses when he sees the spark in James’s eyes, “I mean, I don’t want a relationship or anything right now. I have a boyfriend. His name is Otabek, and before you ask, yes he’s okay with this.”

James stares at him for a bit, and Yuri glances around for a tissue because his skin looks even worse when it’s blotchy with tears.

“Why’s he okay with it?” he asks.

The arm he has between James and the couch is starting to go numb.

“It gets him off,” Yuri tries to explain, “Knowing his boyfriend is hot enough to get other guys. And he knows I like cock,” Yuri smirks, desperately trying to turn the mood flirty, “And me being happy makes him happy.”

“So he’s into cucking?” James summarizes, and Yuri winces. God he fucking hates that word.

“Yeah, sure, if that’s what you want to call it.”

“Have you,” he begins, and Yuri sighs of relief when he sits up and stops crushing his arm, “Have you ever let a guy fuck you while he watches?”

Yuri moves his hand over James’s clothed thigh, “I’ve let him watch a lot of guys fuck me.”

James is staring at him again, mouth parted and cheeks red from arousal instead of tears. They’re finally getting somewhere. 

“That could never happen to me,” he tells Yuri, “No one that hot would ever want to date me.”

Yuri doesn’t know what to say to that, so he just pushes his hands under James’s shirt instead, pushing him to lay back on the couch. 

“You’re so out of my league,” James continues, “I know I’m an athlete and all that, but I mean, you see me. I’m nothing special. Even my body. I have some parts that the fat just won’t leave. I think it’s genetics or something,” he’s shivering under Yuri’s hands and lays completely still as Yuri tugs off his shirt. His hands stay straight at his side when Yuri straddles him, grinding his ass on James’s clothed erection.

“I feel like I’m going to wake up from a wet dream any second now,” James breathes out, “Holy shit.” 

And then he’s finally putting his hands on Yuri, pushing him down against his crotch as he bucks up against him. His tongue is out and he’s panting like an actual dog. It’s been a long time since Yuri’s seen someone so affected by dry humping.

The thought makes him sits up and push James’s hands off.

“Are you a virgin?” he blurts out, and immediately regrets it because now James looks sad again.

“No!” he stammers out, and clambers up the couch to sit as far away as possible from Yuri, “Am…. am I acting like one? You can tell me if I do something wrong. I’ll listen.”

Yuri tries to bring his reassuring smile back, “You were fine, James. I just wanted to make sure.”

James nods and then looks down at the floor, “I mean… I’ve only been with one person. And she kind of catfished me, which is how Peter got the idea for his prank. But like… she existed! She just wasn’t using her photos!”

Yuri blinks at him, “And you still slept with her?”

“Well, ugh, yeah,” James tells him, all quiet and embarrassed again, “I kind of had a feeling it was too good to be true. Because she kind of looked like you, but a girl and with like, really big boobs. But she was blonde and skinny, and had really pretty green eyes… or at least her photo did anyways. In reality she was kind of average, a little mousy with really large hips. But she wasn’t  _ ugly  _ or anything.”

Yuri tries to think of a response. He comes up blank.

“Okay,” he begins with a deep breath, “Okay.” Who the hell knew there would be so much drama trying to fuck an entire hockey team? And oh god, he was only on the fourth.

“Do you still want to?” James squeaks out, and Yuri is about to snap at him before he remembers he’s dealing with a fragile nerd boy.

“Yeah,” he says, soft and comforting, or at least he hopes it is. He’s kind of using the voice he usually reserves for small animals. It makes Yuri feel a little queasy, “Let me take care of you.”

Wow. If he hadn’t already been feeling like a prostitute, he sure does now.

James stares at him, dumbfounded, “Ugh. Yeah. Okay.”

Yuri nods at him and reaches to take off his top, more than a little surprised when James rushes over to stop him.

“Can I,” he bites his bottom lip as he looks down at Yuri, “Can I undress you?”

Yuri nods and soon clammy hands are pulling off his shirt and unbuttoning his pants. He’s a little too enthusiastic and almost pushes Yuri over when he shoves off his pants, but Yuri grabs onto him for balance. He seems to like that.

He also seems to like just staring at Yuri, his hazel eyes raking down Yuri’s lean form.

“You look like a fucking painting,” James blurts out, and Yuri almost laughs.

“Thanks,” he tells him, and lets his hands rest on James’s mildly hairy chest as he leans up and kisses him.

James seems surprised by the kiss. Doesn’t seem to know what to do, so Yuri lets himself take control, slowly massaging his lips against James’s, letting his tongue glide over his bottom lip before pulling away.

“Underwear?” James asks him. He’s still so quiet and unsure. It’s an odd change of pace from Yuri’s usual hookups.

When Yuri nods, James pushes his boxer-briefs down, and Yuri kicks them away when they get to his ankles. He regrets it almost immediately when he remembers how hard it’ll be to find them again, but then James is kissing him, sweaty hands gripping onto his wrists and maneuvering him over to the bed.

Yuri falls back when his knees find the edge of the bed, and then he’s wincing because he definitely fell onto some sort of controller.

James is off him and apologizing at once, helping Yuri sit up as he shoves all the things off the bed onto the floor. Including the comforter. And part of the top sheet.

“It’s okay,” Yuri reassures him (at least twenty times), but it still takes a while for James to get back to him, slowly crawling over him and looking down uncertainly.

“Is it,” he begins and pauses, “Is it normal for you to be soft right now?”

Yuri blinks up at him, “I kind of just got impaled by an Xbox controller.”

“It was a Wii Pro Controller,” James corrects, and Yuri feels like he’s the star of a shitty sitcom for a second. 

“Um, well, I got stabbed by a controller. Which is kind of a mood killer, but you’re doing fine,” he reaches up to push some of James’s curly hair behind his ear, and then regrets it when his fingertips come back feeling greasy, “I want you to enjoy yourself. Use me for your pleasure, and I promise I’ll enjoy it.”

James freezes over him, and Yuri worries he said something wrong until he feels James’s leg twitch against his. Oh. So he just really liked hearing that.

“You… you like feeling like a sex doll?” James stammers out, and Yuri can’t figure out if it’s an attempt at dirty talk or an actual question, “That’s so fucking hot, Yuri,” he drawls on, and he’s palming himself through his jeans like he’s already forgotten Yuri’s going to let him fuck him.

Yuri arches up to press his crotch against James’s pants, “So make me feel like one,” he tells him, voice breathy and trying not to sound too much like he’s quoting a porno.

James finally gets up to tug his pants off, throwing them off to a pile of other clothes before his boxers follow, and then he’s emptying the contents of a drawer for lube.

He squirts some on his hand and then looks at Yuri. He’s unsure again. Maybe even scared, so Yuri smiles at him and sits up.

“Tell me how you want me,” he suggests, and James stares with his mouth open. Yuri glances down to see James’s cock leaking at the same rate he was crying earlier. He probably won’t take too long.

“Can I face you?” he asks, like he’s expecting Yuri to laugh in his face and tell him no.

Instead he smiles and spreads his legs for him, “Of course.”

It takes a while for James to join him back on the bed, even longer for him to push in a single finger, mouth parting as he does so.

“It’s so tight and warm,” he whispers. Yuri figures he’s probably talking to himself, “You’re sure you want to let me do this?”

“James,” Yuri pushes himself down further onto his finger, “I want you to feel good. If you’re not comfortable with this yet, then I can suck you off first,” he suggest the blowjob like most people would suggest an appetizer, and James might be drooling a little.

“No,” James snaps, and Yuri can’t help but be a little surprised by his tone, “I… I’d blow if I even got near your mouth. I want to cum in your ass,” he pinches at Yuri’s thigh while he talks, an absent-minded motion that Yuri finds feels pretty good, “It always looks so hot in the videos,” he adds, much quieter.

Yuri smirks up at him, “Well then what are you waiting for?” he asks, and James nods, eager and awkward before he shoves another finger in him without lube.

It doesn’t hurt, Yuri’s had worse things pushed in his ass without lube, and James’s hands are too clammy for there to be any actual friction, but James apologizes anyways and upends half the bottle onto his hand before continuing. 

Most of it falls on the bed, and by the time James feels like he’s done, Yuri’s getting a little impatient. 

He’s touching himself do he doesn’t lose interest, but James keeps getting distracted by his hand working his cock.

Yuri spreads his legs further and grinds against the air to emphasize his waiting ass, “Come one,” he urges him, “Don’t keep me waiting.”

When James finally does push in, he stops at his first thrust and his eyes roll back. Yuri’s certain he just came, and he’s tightening his grip around his cock and moving his hand faster when James’s hands fall on either side of his face and he fucks up into him again. 

The movement pushes Yuri up the bed a little, off of James’s dick, which James seems to deem unacceptable, so he grabs him by the shoulders to keep him in place. It also causes forces Yuri to spread his legs further, into a full fucking split now as James fucks him, pushing him down by his shoulders at the same time he thrusts up.

The slap of his balls and hips against Yuri’s ass is borderline painful and Yuri really didn’t think he’d seeing stars in bed with James, but the way he’s fucking him has him pushing in the full amount every time, filling Yuri up to the point he can hardly take it.

His whiny moans aren’t faked as James drills into him, even if they’re mixed with James sounding like he’s about to have an asthma attack on top of him.

“Holy fuck,” James groans out, relaxing his grip on Yuri’s shoulders to glide down and pinch at one of Yuri’s nipples. His pace slows as well, and it has Yuri slowly coming down from the high.

He’s not expecting another sudden rough jerk and for James to pull at his nipple when he does, and he lets out a yelp in reply that has James pressing his body hot against him and kissing him. 

“This is so much better than the videos,” he tells him when he leaves his mouth, thighs quivering against Yuri’s before he starts his brutal pace again. 

Yuri’s hand is still wrapped around his cock, still and tight, but his grip loosens when James’s hands wander a little closer to his neck. His thumb pushes against his windpipe, just barely cutting off his airflow and making him choke, a happy accident for Yuri that has him spilling all over his hand and stomach. 

James is shaking above him when Yuri tightens around him, and then Yuri feels the telltale deep and slow thrusts that end with James trying to close an imaginary distance between them and finishing inside him. 

He’s quick to pull out, backing up to watch Yuri’s hole clench around nothing and push out his cum.

James lets out a strangled groan at the sight, “Fuck, that is hot.”

Yuri stares at him. He’s a little more than confused as he sits up. 

James looks at him as if he has something to be guilty for, “Are you okay?” he asks, and Yuri blinks away his shock to responds.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”

When James hands him a wet washcloth to clean himself up with, Yuri takes it without a word, and when James offers to take him to the little diner down the street, Yuri shrugs and accepts.

He wears one of James’s shirts, the name of a game he doesn’t recognize printed across the front. Yuri’s shirt ended up under a bookshelf and got stained with dust -- something Yuri never thought could happen.

He lets James tell him about a new board game he ordered the other day, and politely declines when he asks if he wants to play with his friends some time. 

Yuri gets back to his apartment with his dirty shirt and a full stomach. He calls Otabek from his couch.

Otabek’s just waking up for the day, drinking coffee while reading the news on his phone.

Yuri starts out with the obvious, “So I fucked a giant nerd who’d only slept with one lady before me,” he watches Otabek’s eyebrows furrow together as he sips his coffee, “And he was actually really good? Are my standards getting low?”

Otabek sets down his mug and adjusts his laptop camera before answering, “What was so good about him?”

Yuri blanks for a moment, “Well I mean, first he cried a lot, so maybe I just had low expectations going in. But then when I finally coaxed him into being comfortable he just kind of fucking manhandled me and like… Well, you know how I like that Otabek, but he also just kind of ‘went at it,’ I guess. He didn’t hold anything back, it was like…” Yuri pauses.

“Like he just figured out what fucking a dude’s asshole felt like?” Otabek laughs when Yuri blinks at him.

“Oh yeah, I guess that’s true.”

They talk for a while longer, Yuri tells Otabek about how his programs are coming along and how he doesn’t have the stamina he used to. Otabek nods through it all and talks a little about the protege he moved back to Almaty to help coach. He’s becoming a little brat. Yuri figures Otabek should be used to it by now.

He sends a text to Mila before going to bed.

_ Four down ;) hope you like the taste of defeat _

Mila responds an hour later.

_ :o wow u a big ol slut _

“Sore loser,” Yuri laughs to himself.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel like I need to add a disclaimer that in my fic world everyone's bi and STDs don't exist
> 
> Talk to me on [tumblr](babypeche.tumblr.com)!


	4. Creep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why did this take so long? No fucking clue. (Unedited for a bit)
> 
> Possible warning at the end.

After James, Yuri enters a sort of cool down state. He has no worries that Mila’s going to catch up to him, and dealing with hockey players was a lot more tiresome than Yuri thought it’d be.

In the meantime he keeps in touch with all of them except Peter. He goes out with Andon and Felix and acts as their wingman. Yuri almost ends up going home with them too, but in the end he leaves with three kisses instead.

James sends him pictures of outfits to choose from for a date with a girl that is most definitely, 100% real (his words), and then calls him from outside the restaurant and about to bail. Yuri gives him his best attempt at a pep talk which somehow ends up working.

Peter’s number gets blocked. As do all of his social media accounts.

In the end, he doesn’t have even have to approach another member of the hockey team, one comes straight to his door.

Lev is the tallest on the team, wavy light brown hair and a ridiculously chiseled face.

“Evening, Yuri,” he greets, and Yuri balks at him for a second before forcing out a smile.

“Good evening, Lev,” he responds, he’s about to ask some questions or maybe invite him in, but Lev speaks up before he can.

“Hope you don’t mind I asked Georgi for your address. I know you’ve been sleeping or, ugh, dating? Around with some of the other hockey players, so I figured you might be interested in a date with me.”

Lev is smiling at him, charming and polite and kind of creeping Yuri out, “Um,” Yuri begins, glancing down at the clothes they’re wearing. Lev is dressed all prim and proper as usual, Yuri always sees him coming into the rink in something at least as nice as business casual. Yuri, on the other hand, is dressed in his “stay-home” clothes which consists of plain leggings and an old shirt that probably belonged to some dude he’s slept with once or twice. It hangs off his shoulders and dips low enough to reveal his collar bone. 

“Right now?” he asks, and Lev’s smile gets bigger. Yuri didn’t think that was possible.

“Yes!” he confirms, and then brings a previously hidden paper bag into the door frame, “I’ll cook for you.”

Yuri’s mouth hangs open. He’s not really sure how to respond to that. A dude he hardly knows is inviting himself into his apartment for a dinner date. With a full bag of food he wants to make in his kitchen. Unannounced. What the fuck?

Normal Yuri would have laughed at Lev and shut the door in his face. But Current Yuri is trying to get Lev into bed, so he has to accept.

His mouth gapes open when Lev proceeds to pick up two more bags before entering the apartment. 

“Do you like Italian?” he asks, as if it’s completely normal to start unloading a month’s worth of groceries to prepare a dinner date a practical stranger’s kitchen.

“Ugh,” Yuri begins, unsure if he should just stand at the kitchen bar and just watch or maybe help, “Yeah, Italian’s fine,” he hasn’t found a type of food he doesn’t like yet.

He sits on one of his barstools awkwardly as Lev dances around the kitchen, humming a tune as he prepares a rather complicated pasta.

He’s making the sauce himself. Yuri had nearly got up and left his own home when he’d pulled a food processor out of one of the bags. 

The sauce is a green pesto made with garbanzo beans and when Yuri sees the finished product his mouth is watering. By the time Lev is setting his hardly-used table -- with Yuri’s own dishes, he’s a little surprised he didn’t bring his own set -- Yuri’s forgotten about how weird this all is, he doesn’t even bat an eye when Lev goes over to the living area to figure out his fancy ass sound system. He puts on something that sounds French, or maybe it’s Italian to fit the food, Yuri can never tell the difference between those languages.

Despite not bringing his own plates, he does pull out a couple candles from his bag along with a bottle of wine. He lights them himself and turns off the brighter lights of the kitchen before finally bringing the food over to Yuri.

It’s ridiculous and way too fucking over the top, he doesn’t even have these types of “romantic evenings” with Otabek, but the food and wine are so good he can’t complain. He’ll need to think of a game plan soon, how to explain to Lev that he doesn’t want any of this romantic shit he just wants to sleep with him, but for now he just lets himself enjoy the meal.

Which ends up being harder than he expected because Lev keeps looking at him with these confident, plotting smiles and it’s giving Yuri the creeps.

The lighting and Lev’s facial features combine to give him a creepy exterior, Yuri feels like he’s sitting across a lead from a vampire movie. And he’s kind of getting the vibe that Lev might end up wanting to suck his blood or some shit.

“I may not know why you’re gaming for the attention of the entire SKP, but I can see why we’re all giving in so easily,” he tells him with a sigh. Yuri doesn’t respond and shoves another forkful of pasta in his mouth, “It’s not even an exaggeration to say you’re the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen.”

Yuri forces a half-smile onto his face and responds with a mouth full of food, “Thanks.”

Lev lets out a shallow chuckle, “You see even when your table manners are nonexistent, you’re still so exquisite. It’s truly amazing. I’m such a lucky man to be here with you tonight.”

Yuri shrugs in agreement, trying not to pay Lev’s words too much attention.

“What you’re looking for in the other members, be it something sexual or romantic, I can assure you, you won’t find it in any of them.”

The wine glass stops halfway to Yuri’s face as he stares back at Lev with an encroaching frown.

“I’m telling you honestly that none of them appreciate your beauty like me. None of them can treat you like I will tonight. They’re all immature boys looking for an easy lay. But what you need is a man. I can see it in your eyes, in the way you so blatantly flirt with me and my teammates.”

The wine glass finishes its trip to Yuri’s mouth and he gulps it down hurriedly, “Uh-huh,” he responds, not meeting Lev’s eyes. He can feel the annoyance that fill his own.

“You have a boyfriend, right?” Lev asks, and Yuri sighs into his glass before putting it down with a fake smile.

“Yes. And before you ask, yes he knows about me fucking the hockey players. And, yes, he’s fine with it.”

Lev hums and taps a long finger against the table, “I can’t relate. If I were dating you I’d want you all to myself. I wouldn’t be able to handle other men looking at you.”

Yuri lets a scowl take over his face for a second. How the fuck does this dude know who he is -- the fucking Russian Punk of skating -- and think it’d be a good idea to say shit like that in his fucking  _ home _ ?

Not only insult his boyfriend but make discomforting statements about an imaginary relationship with him as well. Yuri really hope this dude hasn’t had any long term partners in the past. He should find out and send any of them a care package if they exist.

“May I ask how often he does something like this,” he gestures to the meal, “for you?”

Yuri takes a deep breath, “Well he’s in Kazakhstan and we’re both professional skaters. It’s a little hard to find time.”

“I found the time,” Lev reminds him with a smirk.

Yuri wants to vault over the table and punch his teeth in.

“You could do so much better than that Kazakh boy, Yura,” Lev drawls on, and Yuri focuses his anger into stabbing the pasta on his plate. 

“I’m not looking for a new boyfriend, Lev,” Yuri tells him flatly, wiping at his mouth while fixing him with a stone-cold stare.

“But you are looking for something,” Lev continues with a smile, “And I think I can be that something.”

Yuri puts on a fake smile again, “Do you now? Because I have a lot of men to compare you to.”

Lev nods and wipes his own mouth, a more serious exterior encompassing him now, “I’m sure you do, Yura. I would be surprised if you didn’t have at least hundreds. But you should know I’m something special. I can read you like a book, everything you want. And I can give it to you. All the desire from a man who’s been watching you for years. Appreciating you for years.”

Yuri taps a fingernail nervously against the bottom of the table, his stomach keeps churning now and he’s pretty sure he won’t be able to finish the dinner.

“Well,” Yuri coughs out, “I think I’m full.”

He stands with a thick swallow and takes his time taking his dirty dishes back to the kitchen.

Lev kisses him without warning. Yuri almost drops the glass he’s holding. Lev slides his hands against Yuri’s to take it from him, placing it on the table before tugging him towards the hallway.

“Which room?” Lev asks with a grin, holding Yuri close to him at the waist.

“Last on the left,” Yuri breathes out, trying to put on the face he uses when he’s talking to sponsors who are suggesting advertising deals Yuri really wants to say no to.

Lev guides him to the room, pulls apart for only a second while he opens it all the way to pull Yuri through and kiss him against the neighboring wall.

His kisses are slow. His lips work Yuri’s open and his tongue presses against Yuri’s desperately, like he wants to envelop his own in the taste.

One hand rests on Yuri’s waist, heavy and warm there, while the other guides his wrist to press against the wall, pinning it there gently.

When their lips part Lev spends a good amount of time simply staring at him, eyes wide and cheeks red.

“So beautiful,” he whispers, “So gorgeous. I wish I could see you like this every night.”

Yuri stops himself from responding  _ in your dreams _ with a tense smile.

His hands are shaking when he tugs Yuri’s shirt over his head, having to bend down some to kiss at his exposed shoulders and collarbones.

Yuri feels damp with saliva when their eyes meet again. He stares at him again, wavy hair in his face and lips wet and red. 

“Undress me,” he suggests, quiet as he steps away from Yuri.

Yuri doesn’t meet his gaze while unbuttoning his shirt, frowning when he has to stand on his toes to push it off his shoulders.

His hands get to work at the belt next, tugging it off in a violent movement before hurriedly working on his pants.

Lev is kissing him again when his pants are down at his ankles, holding Yuri’s face in his hands as he presses their mouths together bruisingly.

“I know this isn’t how your nights usually go, Yura,” he breathes out, running fingers through his hair, “Sweet kisses are usually bites. Clothes are usually thrown off or even ripped. But I want to treasure this, Yura. I want to treasure you. You’re like a gift to unwrap.”

He kisses him again, moaning into his mouth, and pushing him in such a way that has Yuri grabbing his forearms to steady himself.

“You have sex with all kinds of men, I know. But when was the last time someone made love to you?”

Yuri’s bark of a laugh is hidden in another deep kiss.

Lev’s hands rest on his still clothed hips as he directs him to the bed, gently laying him down before peeling off the old leggings with slow care.

Lev’s boxers come off with the same pace, and Yuri can’t help but knot his eyebrows at what he sees. 

He looks up at his bedmate’s face to see he hadn’t noticed anything and relaxes again, laying back on his elbows as he tries not to think about how this night just got even more disappointing.

Lev was… not the most well endowed. And coupled with his height and broadness it was just a little odd looking, a little out of proportion.

He continues to force his mind to think of other things, like the way Lev’s biceps strain when he leans down to place a gentle kiss to his lips.

“Where do you keep your lube?” Lev asks against his lips, and Yuri grunts before lazily pointing towards the only drawer on his bed table.

Lev is there in a heartbeat, pulling out the recently bought bottle. 

“Stomach, darling,” Lev directs him, and Yuri flips himself with a sigh, letting Lev arrange him on his hands and knees.

At least he could manhandle him decently, it’s getting Yuri’s body a little more interested in the night’s progression.

Lev takes his time coating his first finger, and then he takes his sweet time penetrating Yuri as well, slowly working his long, lean finger inside like Yuri is some fragile little virgin.

He sighs and accepts his fate as a second one joins, just as slow and gentle as the first. He doesn’t even spread them as he slowly pushes them in and out of Yuri’s ass. 

“Feel good?” Lev asks, breathless and clearly getting off on this much more than Yuri is.

Yuri responds with a hum he hopes sounds happy. He doesn’t want to prolong this anymore. He doesn’t want Lev giving him another speech about how gorgeous he is or how perfect Lev is for him. 

When he finally spreads his fingers, scissoring them slowly inside of Yuri, he can hardly feel the light stretch. 

He lets out a fake gasp anyways, arching his back fro Lev, hoping he’ll get on with it.

But nope.

There’s a third finger, entering slowly and just as ridiculously gentle as all the others. Yuri feels like he might fall asleep if this continues.

And continue it does, way longer than he ever wants it to. His hole is starting to feel sloppy and gooey rather than slick.

“Ready?” Lev asks, as if he can barely get the words out.

“Yeah,” Yuri spits back at him, amazed by how little of the annoyance comes through his voice.

He feels Lev’s movements behind him, and then suppresses an eyeroll when Lev turns him back on his back, facing him.

Lev is red-faced and sweating, shaking as he pushes Yuri’s legs back and grabs his hands to hold tight. 

His cock feels thinner than the three fingers, and Yuri sighs and closes his eyes. Lev seems to be too far gone to even register if Yuri’s enjoying this or not, so he lets him fuck into him as he likes.

He grunts above him, his sweat drips down on Yuri as he cries out Yuri’s name in a mantra, chanting it louder and louder until Yuri feels the heat of him cumming inside his ass.

Yuri’s only half-hard, something he does his best to hide from Lev by pulling him down into a kiss when he pulls out. Hopefully some of his semen will drip onto Yuri’s chest and he can pretend he already came.

But Lev doesn’t even pay attention to his cock or stomach as he falls back on the bed to hold Yuri close to his chest.

He presses kisses to Yuri’s neck and hair, murmuring compliments to him.

Yuri lets him bask in the post-orgasm haze for a bit before slipping out of bed.

Lev looks up at him with lost eyes.

“I still have to work out tonight,” Yuri lies.

Lev stands with a frown, “Sex is a work out,” he tries, a half-smile on his face before he sees that Yuri is already pulling his clothes back on and gathering up Lev’s.

“Get dressed,” Yuri advises him, tossing him his shirt. 

He leaves Lev to finish cleaning up the meal, ignoring the sounds of Lev fumbling to dress himself and follow.

He’s not surprised to see Lev standing behind him, a desperate glint in his eyes.

“Yuri, please,” he says, without any of the confidence he possessed earlier, “Did I do something wrong?”

Yuri smiles and gives him a pat on the back before attempting to direct him to the door.

“Do you feel guilty?” he tries again, and Yuri shakes his head with a smile.

“I have things to do, Lev,” Yuri tells him again, opening the door for him, “Thanks for the dinner.”

Lev leaves with his phone and shoes clutched to his chest, opening his mouth to say something before Yuri shuts the door on him and makes a point to deadbolt it as loudly as possible.

He finds his phone with a sigh and sends a recap of the night to Otabek before gathering up his comforter to put in the wash.

He’s greeted with a facetime request when he plops down on the couch.

His boyfriend’s smiling face instantly lifts his mood.

“Are you sure this bet is worth it?” Otabek starts out with, a small laugh to his voice.

Yuri scoffs, “I’m not going to let that old hag beat me.”

Otabek nods in reply and rolls his shoulder against his own couch.

They spend a bit just staring at each other. Otabek seems to be looking at something, maybe watching a routine on his TV, and Yuri doesn’t know what to say.

Until he does.

“Let me see you,” he requests, words coming out just a little too quick.

Otabek’s attention is back on the phone now, “What was that?”

“Let me see you,” Yuri says again, “I need to see you. After tonight’s disappointing dick I need to cleanse my mind with yours,” Yuri tells him teasingly.

Otabek smirks, “Yura wants me to jerk off for him? He’ll have to ask nicer than that if he does.”

Yuri groans and moves to lay on the couch, holding his phone above his face.

He chews on his bottom lip while watching Otabek’s expecting face.

“Please,” Yuri grunts out, “Let me see you touch yourself,” he keeps his tone softer now, “Put on one of the videos I’ve sent you, or tell me what to do for you. I need to see your cock right now, Beka. I need to see you cum for me.”

Otabek sighs contently at his new attempt, “Much better, kitten,” he praises him as he stands. Yuri knows his apartment well enough to know he’s moving to the bedroom.

He decides that’d be a good idea for him as well. It’d be a major mood killer to have his night with Lev keep the spot for most recent sexual activity in his bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Yuri doesn't enjoy sex in this chapter like at all. And the dude says some stalkerish stuff/things that would be said in an unhealthy or manipulative relationship.

**Author's Note:**

> idk why i like writing about yuri getting rawed so much
> 
> also this is a fic. don't have unprotected sex with random people irl.
> 
> talk to me on [tumblr](babypeche.tumblr.com)


End file.
